


Enlightenment

by herinfiniteeyes



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, Misogyny, Sexism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 13:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/381937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herinfiniteeyes/pseuds/herinfiniteeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is surprised by Eames' behavior. Eames is surprised by Arthur's attitude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enlightenment

**Author's Note:**

> This work contains sexism and misogyny with a large helping of defined "gender norms." In case the summary isn't self-explanatory, please be warned that Arthur is the one acting sexist. (Also, it's written in alternating Arthur/Eames POV, and I want to stress the fact that Arthur's POV is not my POV.)
> 
> Moving on...

Eames is the kind of guy who does things a lot of other guys wouldn’t be caught dead doing. 

He’ll sit and listen to Mal talk about the joys of childbirth and motherhood while she breastfeeds Phillipa. He never looks at her bared breast, but he does reach out to stroke a gentle finger down the soft curve of the baby’s cheek while she nurses. When it’s time to change her diaper, Eames offers and Arthur leaves the room because babies make him uncomfortable. 

He watches chick flicks with Ariadne on the nights when they’ve done all they can do for the job and the only thing left to entertain them is room service and a Nicholas Sparks movie marathon. When Arthur walks through the living room in the suite the team is sharing, Ariadne is curled up under Eames’ arm, fast asleep. Eames has one hand curled around an empty carton of chocolate Haagen Dazs ice cream and his feet are up on the table. When Arthur hears a sniffle, he looks closer and is surprised to see Eames using his shoulder to wipe away tears. Onscreen, two old people are curled up on a bed together. 

Arthur decides to go hide in his room, because he can’t deal with Eames crying over The Notebook. 

Eames doesn’t just hang out with the women. He does other stuff that makes Arthur wonder about him, too. 

He hugs everyone. He kisses cheeks and mouths and doesn’t mind standing close. When Phillipa is bigger, he lets her put make up on him and Arthur will wander by her room to see Eames gleefully using his best Princess voice while Phillipa serves him tea and straightens his tiara. He loves flowers, and Mal and Ariadne both frequently send him bouquets for birthdays and other special occasions. 

When Mal is in labor and Dom is stuck at the airport in Tokyo, Eames flies in from a job in Maine and gets to the hospital just after Arthur. Arthur is holding Mal’s hand, but he wishes he could be anywhere else. Mal’s grip is punishing, and she looks nothing like the elegant, sexy woman he’s used to. Right now, she’s dripping with sweat, her hair stuck to the back of her neck, and she’s cursing in French while the nurses scurry around her with bright chatter and helpful drugs. 

By the time Eames arrives, Arthur feels helplessly afraid that he’ll get roped into staying with her through the birth. He feels queasy. He’s not sure he can do it. But then Eames comes in, pulls his jacket off and immediately rolls up his sleeves. He walks to Mal and doesn’t even hesitate to press a kiss to her sweaty forehead. “How’s my little nephew doing?” he asks. 

Arthur pulls his hand away from Mal’s when she reaches out to pull Eames into a hug. “He doesn’t want to come out, but he will,” she says confidently. “Though I know he is waiting for Dom.”  
Two hours after Eames arrives, Arthur’s pacing in the waiting room and Eames is doing everything he can to help Mal. He mops her brow, brings her ice chips, and sits behind her in the hospital bed so he can rub her back through the contractions. Arthur wanders in and out, calling Dom repeatedly, but doesn’t know what else to do except wait. 

Eames is in the room when Mal gives birth. He tries to describe it to Arthur later, but Arthur goes pale and queasy, a little bit shaky. He’s terrified when Mal hands James to him, but he holds the sleeping baby and wonders how Eames can be so comfortable and confident in the land of women while Arthur feels like an intruder. 

That night, Eames stays at Arthur’s place and while they’re drinking a beer and watching the game, Arthur tries to ask him about it. “So,” he says, “what’s up with you and chicks, man?”

Eames looks at him over his beer bottle and lifts a brow. “What, exactly, do you mean?” 

Arthur’s shoulder jerks up in an awkward shrug. “I just, I mean, like, how can you be so good with them?” 

Eames takes a long sip and sets the bottle on the coffee table. “I have sisters,” he says. 

Arthur shakes his head. “It’s more than that, though.” 

There’s an unreadable look on Eames’ face. “Let’s just watch the game,” he suggests after a moment of awkward silence. 

Arthur drains his beer and sits back to do just that. 

 

At the end of the next job, Eames invites Arthur to come stay with him in his Paris apartment for a bit. Surprisingly, Arthur agrees. Eames hires a woman to clean the apartment and stock the kitchen with food, so when they get there around midnight, the place smells like lemon oil and furniture polish. There’s a bow of fresh potpourri on the table that smells like apples and cinnamon, and Arthur pauses to snort and shake his head at it. 

“Something wrong?” Eames asks. 

Arthur startles and looks at him. “Huh? Oh, no… why?” 

Eames shrugs and walks to the spare bedroom to show Arthur where everything is. “Here’s your room. I’m down the hall, and the bathroom’s through there,” Eames says. 

Arthur grins and drops his suitcase. Eames is surprised when Arthur pushes him against the wall next to the door and drops to his knees in his hideously expensive trousers. 

He blows Eames with remarkable skill, then holds him up when Eames comes and his knees buckle. They stumble to Eames’ bedroom because that’s where the supplies are, and Eames lies on his stomach with his head pillowed on his arms while Arthur gently opens him up with slick fingers and a hot, wet tongue. 

When he’s ready, he rolls onto his back and wraps his legs around Arthur’s narrow hips. Arthur’s dick is long and wide, and he can’t wait to feel it inside of him. 

Arthur does this like he does everything, with great focus and attention to detail. He nips and flicks at Eames’ nipples, gives him long, drugging kisses, and fucks him straight into the mattress with every hard thrust. 

 

The next day, Eames awakes to find Arthur sleeping peacefully beside him. The sunlight has a low, golden glow that tells him it’s late morning. Arthur’s suit is in a heap on the floor and his gun holster is on the nightstand next to the bottle of slick. Eames smiles and turns his head to burrow into the pillow. If he inhales deeply enough, he can smell Arthur’s expensive cologne on the sheets. 

Arthur stirs and opens his eyes to see Eames looking down at him with a sappy smile. “What is it?” he asks, voice rough and groggy. 

Eames brushes a finger down the slope of Arthur’s nose and presses against his jaw until Arthur turns his head for a lazy morning kiss. When he pulls away, Eames hums and blinks his sleep-heavy eyes. “You’re beautiful in this light,” he says. “Well, you’re always beautiful, but right now it’s like you’re…glowing.” 

Arthur squirms and pulls the sheet up from his hips to cover his chest. He sits up and runs a hand through his hair. “You can be such a girl, sometimes.” He laughs, and doesn’t notice when Eames looks as if he’s been slapped. “It’s funny, ‘cuz you’re, y’know, built like a fuckin’ brick shithouse and you can scare the shit out of just about anyone, but then you’re watching chick flicks and eating chocolate and crying over baby stories and you have a bowl of potpourri on the table!” 

He’s still chuckling and shaking his head like it’s the funniest, strangest thing in the world. He looks over at Eames, obviously expecting him to be laughing right along with him, but Eames looks pale and angry. He stops abruptly and gapes at him. “What? What did I say?” 

Eames shakes his head and climbs out of bed, completely unashamed of his naked body. “I may like flowers and romantic movies, but I still have a dick, Arthur. I’m still a man. Liking those things doesn’t change that. It doesn’t have any effect on my manhood whatsoever, actually.” 

Arthur looks gobsmacked now. “I was just joking,” he says. 

Eames pulls on his pants from yesterday and refuses to look at Arthur, at the bed. “I know you were, but that’s not the point.”

Arthur rolls out of the bed to find his boxers, and trails after Eames when he goes to the kitchen. “Then what is the point?” he asks. 

Eames sets about making tea and his shoulders are stiff with visible anger. “The point is that you apparently think I’m less of a man because I happen to do or like things that you think is exclusive to women, Arthur.”

“Yeah, so? Just sometimes!” Arthur says defensively. 

Eames slams the kettle on the stove and turns around with a menacing look on his face. Arthur takes a step back and holds his hands up in a conciliatory gesture, but Eames’ scowl is still in place. “That’s bollocks, Arthur. I am who I am, and I do what I like. I don’t have anything to prove to anyone, least of all you.” 

Arthur’s getting mad now, too. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” he snaps. 

Eames grumbles under his breath and turns to pull down a mug for his tea. “It means I never realized you’re a misogynist. Oh, but ‘just sometimes!’” 

His tone is mocking and angry, and Arthur feels like he’s been slapped in the face. “I don’t see how we went from making out in bed to having this fight,” he says. 

There’s silence between them until the kettle hisses and the steam starts shooting out to announce the water’s boiling. Eames picks it up and sets it down on the back burner before he turns back to Arthur. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Look, maybe this was a bad idea. I think you should probably go.” 

Arthur’s hands are on his hips. He wishes he had more clothes on right about now. “Why, because you’re acting like a girl? You want me to buy you flowers and candy, take you out, pretend I’m not imagining all the different ways I want to fuck you?”

Eames’ face contorts and he turns to hurl the mug against the wall. “I swear to god, Arthur, if you don’t get out of here, I’m going to shoot you.” 

“Whatever,” Arthur says. He stomps out of the kitchen and dresses quickly and efficiently, his jaw clenched the entire time. He hears the door shut quietly, and when he returns to the kitchen with his suitcase, Eames is already gone. 

He calls a cab for the airport and waits out front, hoping to see Eames again before he goes, but the cab pulls up and he’s forced to give up. Whatever happened, whatever went wrong, Arthur leaves Paris wishing it had gone differently. 

 

He thinks about Eames every day, but he doesn’t try to contact him. He talks to Dom about it, but Dom doesn’t say anything helpful. He even shakes his head at Arthur and says, “Sounds like you asked for it.” 

Eames doesn’t contact him, but Arthur figures it has to be Eames who sent him a box of books about gender theory and feminism. Arthur regards the selection of books with cool disdain at first, but the longer he goes without hearing from Eames, the more he begins to wonder if Eames was right about him. 

He knows Ariadne and Mal are intelligent, strong women. But he’s never known how to really interact with them. Eames never seemed to have a problem in that area. Arthur doesn’t know why, but he’s just never been very good around women. He’s gay, so he’s never felt like he had to get over it. 

But Eames…Eames means something to him. He doesn’t know when or how it happened, but the night in Paris was a long time coming, in Arthur’s opinion. He cared for Eames in spite of all the behavior that baffled him. 

After a few months, he picks up the first book and reads it straight through. He finds it’s something like preparing for a job: gathering background info, exploring the data, and considering the most practical approach. The only difference is, he’s not trying to find a way into Eames’ mind. He’s trying to find the way into Eames’ heart. 

He knows, objectively, that he’d fucked up. He can’t blame Eames for kicking him out. 

When he’s ready, he makes some calls and books a flight to Mumbai. Eames is there with a team, trying to extract some insider trading info from the C.F.O. of a large investment firm. 

When he arrives, he drives right to the hotel where Eames is staying under one of his many pseudonyms. Arthur breaks into his room to find Eames hunched over some notes on the bed. “Hey,” he says as casually as possible. 

Eames looks up. He doesn’t look happy to see Arthur, but Arthur hopes that will change. “I came because… because I know I fucked up, okay? I really fucked up. I shouldn’t have said all that.”  
Eames looks unmoved. “Obviously.” 

Arthur gnaws on his bottom lip and starts to pace by the door. “The thing is, you’re right. I read all those books you sent, and I even went out and got more. I was an asshole, an ignorant asshole, and I’m just here to say – I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I said what I did, and I’m even sorrier that you’ll probably never want to be with me again. But you were right, and I was wrong, and I just wanted you to know that.” 

Eames leans back against the headboard and crosses his arms across his chest. “Why d’you want to be with me, Arthur? Is it because I’m ‘built,’ or is it because of something more? What’s in it for you?” 

Arthur pauses and flounders like a fish. “I, um, well… I, I’m in love with you, all right? I actually like that you’re… you. You have a great heart, Eames, and you’re always there for the people who need you. You’re incredibly kind, and intelligent. You make me laugh.” 

“And I have a great ass,” Eames adds, deadpan. 

Arthur laughs. “A fantastic ass. I could write sonnets about your ass.” 

Eames sighs and Arthur pulls out his poker face. “Sorry,” he hurries to say. 

But Eames stands and crosses the room to pull Arthur in for a long hug. “I’ll forgive you this time,” he says, “but it’s like I said before. I am who I am, and I like what I like. I won’t change that, not for anyone. But –“

Arthur peeks up from where his head is resting on Eames’ shoulder. “But what?” 

Eames grins down at him. “But I suppose everyone deserves a second chance.”

“Thank you,” Arthur says quietly. He presses a soft kiss to Eames’ lips and lets him see just how grateful Arthur is for that.


End file.
